Boyfriends

It occurred to me just now, over a most catastrophic event, that nobody teaches you how to be a good boyfriend.

Girls, on the other hand, have it easier. As far as I can discern, most girls are able to tap into some sprawling network of girlfriends and glean tips on how to be a better girlfriend, from the ability to prioritize time to the skill of henpecking. Guys just don't talk about such things. It's all the testosterone and machismo fogging up our brains. If you asked a guy how one could be a better boyfriend, he'll be obliged to say:

"Oh, you just gotta keep her in check, let her know who's boss, don't take any nonsense from her." Yeah. I could get better advice from a plate of satay.

When I was growing up, I knew I couldn't count on my dad to educate me in this particular specialized branch of knowledge. Heck, I knew it from the time he refused to affliate his fan club to mine, citing the driving principle that I needed to learn how to mesmerize on my own two feet.

Therefore, I modeled myself after what other boyfriends were not. And this is true. I used to read all those trashy teenage magazines, and after encountering sob letter after sob letter from girlfriends being driven up the wall by their uniformly crazed, neurotic and ***-obsessed boyfriends (oh come on, how many three-letter words would fit in there), I thought being a good boyfriend couldn't be that tough.

Unfortunately, as my brilliant and fantastic track record has shown, I positively suck at it.

It's amazing how many times I know what's the wrong thing to say, but still end up saying it anyway. It's mind-boggling how often I depress rather than uplift, by dint of some poorly-thought out gesture. When I wake up in the morning, and count the number of girlfriends (just one, to avoid any further complications) I still have, I'm as surprised as a man running through a minefield would, on discovering he still has two feet.

The worst part of it all is when you witness the look of pain, the tone of anguish your loved one possesses right after you screw up. It's then that you feel so ultimately repulsed by your own sordid actions that you no longer feel like Hanting, Idol of a million girls across 5 continents and 6 racial barriers.

You just feel like Hanting, Sentient Piece of Turd.